


found in the wreckage

by phantomlistener



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 09:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: Susan, one day, one week, one month, and one year after Talia.





	found in the wreckage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/gifts).



_One Day_

Susan wakes in soft sheets, the satin of her nightgown cool against her skin, and turns to bury her face in the pillow, hiding her insidious headache from the harsh lighting. A faint trace of perfume lingers on the other side of the bed, light and floral and unexpectedly bitter beneath, the scent layering over her hangover and morphing into a sickly cloud of vodka-and-flowers that makes her head spin.

The sheets tangle around her legs, slippery and too-tight.

She just makes it to the bathroom before throwing up.

 

_One Week_

A flash of blonde hair in the crowd, so light it's almost white, and the severe cut of a dark jacket tear Susan's attention away from whatever Sheridan is saying next to her. A tall woman is walking away, the set of her shoulders so achingly familiar that she could cry, and she's halfway out of her seat before she registers John's hand on her arm, the gentle concern in his voice.

Blinking back tears, she forces herself to sit back down. “I'm fine,” she says, in a voice too rough and too quiet . “Sorry, carry on.”

When she dares to look up again, the woman is standing at one of the jewellery stalls examining a necklace, ungloved hands holding it up to the light and face lit by the glow of the stall's electric lighting.

It's not her.

 

_One Month_

Susan has cleaned her room so many times that the smell of disinfectant sits determinedly beneath the smoke-and-sandalwood scent of the candles dotted across all the available surfaces. She hasn't burned floral scents for the whole month, determined to drive away the ghosts and shadows of Talia's presence with heavy spices and new sheets, but even now, every now and then, a whisper of soft lilies glides through the air and disturbs her tranquillity.

Sometimes it seems as if nothing can exorcise her.

Susan sighs, and turns her attention back to the reports that she should have looked at three days ago. She flicks through the remaining pile: station repairs, intelligence from Earth, a draft amendment to trade licences on the Zocalo.

A report from PsiCorps.

Talia's name stares accusingly up at her from halfway down the page.

“Stop haunting me,” she whispers, and refills her empty glass with vodka.

 

_One Year_

Half asleep, Susan rummages in the bathroom drawer for a hair tie. Her shift starts in five minutes but she's bone-deep tired, the sort of tired that comes from running on adrenaline alone for too long, and from worrying too much about the friends, family, and colleagues she can't protect: Babylon 5's secession from the Earth Alliance has felt like an earthquake, its aftershocks rippling on and on and on.

Her hand touches something smooth and cold amongst the soft ribbons and she knows immediately, without looking, what it is: Talia's hair clasp, the one she'd worn the night they'd first had dinner together.

She doesn't know how it can still be here.

It's been months since she saw her in a crowd, a stranger's blonde hair making her pulse race and skin crawl with longing, months since she walked into a room and smelled her perfume lingering on the air, and for all those long months this little piece of her has been hiding, unobtrusive, amongst the ribbons and trinkets in this drawer.

She lifts it out and holds it tenderly in her hands, one small talisman saved from the devastation. _Talia touched this_ , says a voice in her head, _Talia wore this_. 

Susan smiles, and pins it into her hair.

Delenn wants a secret, and she shall have one.

“ _I think I loved Talia._ ”

 


End file.
